Angela kept only half an ear on the narrative as Lynn and Judith described finding the dog. She had become something of an expert on reading body language. A person can say whatever they want you to believe, but body language says what that person really thinks and often what that person is ready to do. Angela saved more than one sale that way. So why was it that Jack had so completely snookered her? There surely had been signs, probably plenty of them, but she didn’t pick them up. Willfully blind, as the psych folk say. Angela, you fool. And she was depressed all over again.
“And so there he is.” Judith waved a hand toward the dog. “Not only immunized to the gills, but clean and flea-free.” Yep. Her body language and Lynn’s as well said that the dog was as good as theirs.
“Anyone else as hungry as I am?” Lynn opened the steel refrigerator door. “We have salad and sandwich makings and leftovers from last night.”
Judith smiled at Angela. “And homemade bread.”
“There’s sliced ham or turkey, cheese, etc., and salad.”
By the time they’d finished making their sandwiches, the dog had returned to the kitchen and cleaned out the cat’s dish. He sat looking at them, as if assessing who they were.
Angela left her plate on the counter and went over to him, holding out her hand. He gave her hand, her sleeve, her jeans, and her shoes a sniff over, his tail wagging slowly, then sat in front of her. “So now what?” His tail swished faster. He nudged her hand.
“I think he is saying pet me.” Lynn set down her plate, too. “His ears might be a bit tender because the vet cleaned them and put in the meds. He had ear mites along with fleas and possible worms.”
Angela bent over and stroked the dog’s head. “Hey, boy, you need a name. You are so soft and silky. But then so is Minerva.”
“Let’s go outside to eat. We need to talk about what to do about the dog.” Lynn led the way outside and closed the gate to the stairs.
“Are you serious, we need to talk?” Angela couldn’t believe she’d said that. Never had Jack asked her opinion on something; he always formed an opinion and then assumed it was hers as well. This was going to take some getting used to.
The three sat down at the glass-topped wrought iron table while the dog explored the deck.
Lynn began, “Look, if we are to live together, we have to learn to make decisions together. Discuss things, agree, disagree, work it out. Like if one of us is allergic to dogs, then we wouldn’t keep him. Or can’t stand the animal, or…”
Angela looked across the deck at the big, sad eyes, the comical jowls. “How could someone not want him around?”
“Well, we’re taking a gamble; he might have some really bad habits. We don’t know anything about him, you know. And from what I’ve heard, bassets are known for being stubborn and independent thinkers.” Lynn held out her hands. “Let’s have grace.
“…And, Lord, help us make a decision about this hound who might be a gift from you. Amen.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Judith stared at her plate, then across at Lynn. “I mean, well, I guess we didn’t pray much at our house. Until my mother died, we attended church regularly, but sort of…” She shrugged. “With my father and his wheelchair, it was easier to stay home, especially as we had to let the help go. For a while I went myself and then fell out of the habit.”
“Me, too,” Angela said quietly.
“We belong to the Lutheran church in Detroit Lakes, but there are a variety of churches, and if you want, you might choose a different one. But I hope we can have that bond, too. Let’s eat.”
“I think we should name him Homer,” Judith said after a few bites and murmurs of how good the sandwich was.
“Homer. Kind of a strange name.” Angela really liked this bread. Homemade, huh?
Judith shrugged. “Well, your other dog’s name was Orson, right?”
“After Orson Welles, you know—Citizen Kane, The War of the Worlds. Paul enjoyed his movies and named his puppy Orson.”
“Homer wrote The Odyssey,” Judith added. “I remember reading that in school. This pooch has obviously gone on an odyssey.”
“Any other suggestions? Some people with rescue dogs try a variety of names to see if their new dog responds to any of them.” Lynn looked toward the railing where the hound, now stretched out on his side with his jowls sagging, seemed already to be sound asleep. “Homer works for me.”
Angela shrugged. “No problem here. Homer it is. How do you teach a dog his name?”
“Use it a lot and give rewards when he responds. We can go online and look up basset hounds, learn what we can. The first thing is going to be getting him and Minerva together.”
Good luck with that. Bassets are stubborn and independent? That cat is even more so. She takes life on her own terms. Angela almost smiled at the way the cat coolly, emphatically, made her desires known. She finished her sandwich and stood up. “Well, I need to go start putting things away. I have an intense dislike of boxes, unless they are empty. You want us to break them down?”
“Please. By the way, have either of you ever been out in a canoe?” When they both shook their heads, Lynn smiled. “Another adventure if you want to try. And Phillip has a boat and motor, it’s just not back in the water yet. Boating?”
“When I was a kid, we used to have a rowboat. Jack talked about buying a boat, but it never happened.” So much never happened.
On the other hand, Angela reflected as she put her dish in the sink, she was somewhat relieved that they never had a boat. Jack had even looked at some boats. One was a sleek little runabout, what the dealer called a cigarette boat, very expensive. Jack had even taken it out for a spin, the dealer beside him. He had really looked good, too, a handsome young man tooling about in a fancy motorboat; Angela had to hand him that. And isn’t that what life is all about, looking good as you operate expensive toys? Jack certainly thought so. Now that she was alone, Angela was not so certain.
So what was life all about? For years, she had striven to look good for Jack. Fifteen pounds thinner than her high school weight, professional hairstyle, snazzy clothes and heels. She was wearing bedroom slippers at the moment, and she liked the feel much, much better. Frankly, she didn’t care how she looked, and the realization was so powerful it stopped her in her tracks. She didn’t have to be a fashion plate anymore, and it was intensely, gorgeously, brilliantly freeing. She was free! Oh, how she loved that.
She left the kitchen just as she heard Lynn out on the deck scream, “Grab him!”
Here came Minerva with Homer hot on her heels. Sharp claws rattling on the hardwood floor, the two raced past her up the hall. Angela paused, waited. She heard Homer’s wild yelp, and here he came back down the hall, Minerva hot on his heels.
Smiling, she continued to her room and to the boxes waiting.
The first carton she slit open was shoes. Her three-inch spikes, the silver French stilettos, the sexy white Calvin Kleins that looked so good with her midnight-blue velour sheath. She dug out two pairs of flats and her canvas sneakers and closed the box back up. She set it over near the door. This was the first of the boxes that would go to the thrift shop tomorrow.
Chapter Seventeen
Judith consulted her campus map. Here was the student center, so that building right over there must be Solon. The main campus of the University of Minnesota’s Duluth campus was much bigger and more varied than she would have guessed. It was also tightly concentrated, with nearly all the campus buildings crowded into what amounted to a sprawling city block, not spread out across two cities the way the Twin Cities campus was. The campus was well laid out, too; for instance, the student health services sat in the midst of the student housing, the handiest place for ailing students to reach.
She had earned her only college credits on the Minneapolis campus; she’d loved the academics, put up with the big city. Duluth was awfully far from Detroit Lakes and only somewhat far from Melody’s. Again doubt grabbed her. Was this the right way to g
o? The wrong dream?
And here was Cina Hall, just as the map promised. She entered and crossed to a desk just inside an open door. A blond woman in her thirties smiled from behind the desk. “May I help you?”
“I have an appointment with Meredith Pollan. I’m a few minutes early.”
She glanced at her computer monitor. “Ms. Rutherford?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Pollan can see you now. Let me take you.” She stood up and walked out into the hall, so Judith followed her. The hall’s walls were covered in ruins—photos three feet wide showing ruins from all over the world. A few, Judith recognized. That was Machu Picchu; everyone recognizes that one. Another was the narrow defile leading to the stone city of Petra. Some were Indian ruins, but she couldn’t identify which ones they were. Wouldn’t it be marvelous if someday she could? Just look at a tumbled pile of adobe and say, Why, yes. This is Walnut Canyon. And that’s Tuzigoot.
They entered a door at the far end. A woman about Judith’s age looked up and smiled. She was seated behind what had to be the world’s most cluttered desk. Stacks of papers, some dark gray rocks, a lovely Southwest Indian pot, a phone, and a big computer monitor. In fact, the whole room was similarly cluttered with papers, books, and artifacts. On a table against the side wall sat a computer with two monitors.
Judith dipped her head toward the setup. “Two monitors?”
“Most of the people in the department have a dualie for research. Steve over in geology has a three-bee. You can put two images up for comparison, run two sets of figures simultaneously, or a data sheet and an image. Many uses. Meredith Pollan, Ms. Rutherford.” She extended her hand for a handshake, so Judith obliged. She was not a thin woman nor was she stocky, but rather square built and not an ounce of fat. She was remarkably tanned for someone in Duluth at this time of year. “Please have a seat.”
Judith settled into a nice comfy chair. “When I arranged this appointment, I sent you my transcript. I have no idea exactly what information you’d need.”
“Right here.” From several inches down in a pile at her right, Dr. Pollan pulled out Judith’s envelope and opened it. “So you are interested in a career in anthropology. I saw that the credits you are transferring are very good.” She looked up at Judith. “Thirty-six credits in core courses, so you completed your freshman year with a 3.2 GPA. Excellent.”
“But that was a long time ago.”
“Math, history, and English haven’t changed too much. I see you earned these at Twin Cities. You’ve moved?”
“I have. I live near Detroit Lakes now.”
She shook her head. “Five hours? Six?”
“About.” But I don’t want to go back to Minneapolis because there are too many memories there. I had a healthy mother and father then. “It’s more or less the same distance either to here or to the cities, and I like this campus. It’s compact, easy to get around in. And you have a very good anthropology program.”
“We do indeed. And your letter said you want to know what courses to take to complete your AA over at Detroit Lakes.”
“That’s right. I’ve signed up for this next semester’s courses, but I can still change some of them.” She handed Dr. Pollan the registration receipt with the courses listed.
She studied it a moment, nodding, her short salt-and-pepper hair bobbing just a bit. “Good. Good. By the end of this next semester, you’ll have nearly all your core courses under your belt. I see you’ve not had 1602 and 1604 yet. You’ll need both of those courses to go into upper division work.” She clarified, thank goodness. “Biological anthropology and archaeology and cultural anthropology.”
“They sound fascinating.” Judith smiled. No, this was not a mistake after all. “I can hardly wait.”
Dr. Pollan simply looked at her for a long moment. What was going on in her head? A gentle smile slowly spread across her face. She pulled out her keyboard tray and clickety-clicked rapidly, then swung her desktop monitor around so that Judith could see it. “You are computer literate, I presume.”
“No computer whiz, but not a Luddite, either.”
“Good. In addition to your major, you may want to declare a minor or a second major. You will also need elective credits, and only six hours each can be applied to your major and your minor. Here are some of the recommended electives. What do you see there that you’d like?”
Judith ran down the list. She saw no reason to reject any of them. This was going to be great! “Linguistics would probably help as much as anything. And.…” She pondered. “I think I would choose geology. I realize it’s a science and I don’t have a science background; I would really have to work, but it would be very interesting and probably quite useful.”
Dr. Pollan sat back in her chair. “Ms. Rutherford, I teach a large number of beginning anthropology students, and I also advise most of the entering freshmen who are interested in the field. They all want the maximum number of credits for a minimum amount of work. It is so refreshing to find someone who chooses a subject because she actually wants to learn about it. Geology would be an excellent choice, and we have a course for nonscience majors that should suit you well.”
“What is the difference between them, science and nonscience?”
“Geology for science majors requires four semesters of calculus. This course does not. Could you sign up for geology and linguistics instead of these two?” She pointed to Judith’s list.
Judith didn’t have to think long about that. “Yes! Absolutely.”
Dr. Pollan tick-a-ticked her keyboard a few moments. “Oh, good. This will give you an additional four credit hours this next semester. Hm. I wonder.” More clickety-clicking. Again she pointed to her screen. “This course is a good basic one that you’ll need, and it is available online. You can take it at home.”
“Perfect.”
The woman worked her computer another minute. “There. You’ll get the link to this course before the semester begins.” She sat back. “When you complete your AA, will you be moving near Duluth here to finish your bachelor’s?”
“Frankly, I don’t know. My life has been in turmoil lately.” Has it ever!
“I ask about residence plans when I advise incoming students because finding a good living situation is a great help.”
“They are up in the air. None of us knows if our present arrangement will work.” Enough of that subject. “Thank you so much, Doctor. You provided exactly what I wanted: advice on what to take to make the most of my college time.”
“I’m more than glad to help a willing student. Do you have any other questions?”
“Uh, what kind of questions?” Judith had several, but were they the right ones?
“Well, let’s see. For instance, I talked to an advisee yesterday morning, an incoming freshman, who wanted to know how she could get the autographs of all the hockey players. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you have no particular desire to collect college athletes’ signatures.”
Judith laughed. “You got that right. I do have one major misgiving.”
“Yes?”
“It’s been years since I did anything scholarly—you know, academic. And my classmates are all so much younger than I; learning comes easily for the young, not easily at all for the—well, the mature. Should I be taking a full course load this fall?”
“An excellent question! The short answer is yes. For starters, you may seem to be the oldest cookie in the oven and you’re afraid you might get burned. In truth, the university has many transition students such as yourself, people who have been riffed or laid off and are trying to develop marketable skills.”
That’s me! But before Judith could say that out loud, the woman continued, “You have the advantage over your younger classmates, Ms. Rutherford, believe me. You’re not just stacking up credits as so many do; you want to learn. I think you’ll do very well and be very pleasantly surprised. Also, getting your feet wet in academia, so to speak, should be easier in a community college atm
osphere—smaller facility, smaller classes. Not to mention that you certainly don’t strike me as being a wild party animal eager to become the next prom queen.”
Again Judith laughed. Party animal?
The woman scuffed around inside her desk’s lap drawer—without actually seeing the inside, Judith suspected it was just as cluttered as the surface—and brought out a business card, handing it to Judith. “This is my direct number. Please call me if you encounter problems or difficulties; I’ll help you iron them out. Ms. Rutherford, you are truly going to enjoy your new academic life; I’m confident of that. I look forward very much to welcoming you into our department.”
Judith glanced at the card. “Thank you, Dr. Pollan.” She stood up, and Dr. Pollan stood, extending her hand. They shook, and Judith walked out into the long sterile hall with all the ruins on its walls, wildly elated. She had had misgivings since the beginning of this crazy idea; would she fit in at all? They evaporated. Almost. “I look forward to welcoming you into our department.” Her heart did a little tickle.
Signs helped her find the Kirby Student Center as young, young classmates laughed and churned all around her. There didn’t seem to be many of them, but then, Judith realized, this was either the end of the semester or very close to it.
Other signs directed her to the resident dining center, but she didn’t go there. She was not a resident. Instead, she walked out to the food court. Quite an array of choices greeted her, everything from fast burgers to Chinese.
Eventually she chose Thai, mostly because Cook had never ever done anything the least bit Asian. Her father did not approve of Asian culture or cuisine. Oh, he collected Asian art pieces if they were strikingly expensive, but as a lifestyle? Never. In a way she was suddenly entering a whole new world of exotic choices. In another way, the very thought terrified her.
Mm. Thai food was surprisingly tasty; at least this dish was. Something with pork, snow peas, onions, and broccoli florets in a delicious sauce. As she ate her stir-fry and rice, she looked around the food court. The next time she was on campus she’d try the Italian place over there. And maybe the Dog Shack. How silly! The high-society Judith Rutherford eating a hot dog! She almost laughed out loud.
Someday Home Page 15